


The Night Comes Again

by sparkinski



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Laura Hale, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Medical, Angst, Anxiety, Beacon Hills Hospital, Complicated Relationships, Doctor Derek Hale, Doctor Peter Hale, Doctor Stiles Stilinski, Doctors & Physicians, Drama & Romance, F/F, F/M, Family, Friendship, M/M, Medical Trauma, Medicine, Minor Character Death, POV Multiple, Panic Attacks, Past Relationship(s), Relationship(s), Surgeons, Trauma, hospital au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-03-30 11:29:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3935161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkinski/pseuds/sparkinski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cora stormed off and Derek turned his gaze to Stiles, appearing more amused than ever. It was a good look on him. He seemed like a broody dude when he thought no one was watching, but, maybe he didn’t realize Stiles was kind of always watching. “I’m gonna guess she was harassing you, then?” Derek questioned.</p><p>Stiles shrugged slowly, holding his eyes steady as they stared into Derek’s. “It was kind of a team effort, I think.”</p><p>((Based heavily on Grey's Anatomy, but knowledge of the show isn't necessary for the story.))</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It All Starts Here

Stiles was late.

Stiles was late and stumbling all over his room that’s still not fully unpacked trying to put some damn socks on. He was late for his first freaking day of his freaking internship at _freaking_ Beacon Hills Hospital. He had standards to live up to and he was _late on his first day._ They were going to kick him out of the program and then he would be a monstrous disgrace to his mother’s name and legacy and then he wouldn’t be able to afford rent for these _strangers_ he had moved in with and would be too terrified to tell his father and would therefore end up homeless and maybe work at the local supermarket but still probably die on the streets and-

He ran smack into a brick wall.

Or more accurately, a man. A brick man. A man wall. _Holy. “Holy-_.” Well, Stiles was never one to have a working brain to mouth filter.

The _specimen_ Stiles had just thrown himself at in the hallway—which, when did he get in the hallway?—was six feet and at least two inches and tan and oh man the muscle mass on this guy. And his _face. That hair. Those eyes._ Stiles was a dead man walking, honestly (and really needed to work on his internal descriptive devices). ‘Cause either this dude was going murder him for being an idiot, or Stiles was going to suffer from death by extreme attraction.

“Shit dude, I am _so sorry_ ,” he managed to spit out, and the-God who was only donning a towel around the waist, by the way, just appeared plain amused and Stiles was surprised to find himself irritated by that. “If we’re being completely honest, I didn’t even realize I was in the hallway already so…”

“You’re not one of the new interns for BHH living here, are you?” God-man questioned, that entertained sparkle still in his beautiful, _beautiful_ green eyes. “Because, correct me if I’m wrong, but awareness is a pretty important aspect of surgery.”

“ _No_.” Green Eyes raised his stupidly perfect eyebrows at the outburst. Stiles was simply on his way to that aforementioned death by extreme attraction. “I mean, uh, intern? Me? No, nope, not an intern.” Stiles had no control. Stiles was openly checking this guy out now. His eyes were a-swingin’ in directions they shouldn’t and he was breaking out in a _sweat_ over the sight. Maybe hives, too. Stiles was a bumbling idiot on a good day, but this was an absolute catastrophe. “Are you… an intern? Do you… live… here?” 

“No. My sister is, and my sister does, so I’m just borrowing her shower, is all.”

The stupidity Stiles had left inside him to spill was luckily contained as the painful conversation was interrupted by a female voice—it was Cora, the one who had posted the ad for roommates—from the other side of the door they were unintentionally standing next to. “Derek, who the hell are you talking to?” _Derek. Derek. Green Eyes has a name._

Derek snorted. “One of your roommates.”

“Well… don’t. Leave my roommates alone!”

Stiles was ready to _get down on his knees_ —if you catch his drift—and beg for that not to be a thing, for Derek to do everything but leave him alone, but he got too caught up in the way Derek rolled his eyes at his sister yet was smiling like she was the most precious thing, and okay. Stiles was maybe, possibly beginning to believe in that love at first sight bullshit because a man that… _manly_ shouldn’t simultaneously be the most adorable thing Stiles has ever laid eyes on.

“Well,” Derek was talking to him again. Muttering. Quiet. Stiles should probably listen. “You heard the lady.” There was this smirk on the man’s face that had Stiles melting from the inside out, that didn’t prepare him for the way Derek slowly slipped past him, _sensually_ dragging his hand across Stiles’ back like it was meant to be there and more. And then he was murmuring in Stiles’ ear, “You’re missing a shoe.” And was gone. Disappeared into what Stiles knew was the laundry room.

And, well that certainly wasn’t what he was expecting. “What. The. Fuck.” Stiles stared down at his feet, and indeed, he had only put on one shoe before he’d stumbled out into the hallway and right into Captain freaking America. “Hey Cora?” he called through the door.

“Yeah, Stiles?”

“Your brother is hot.”

Cora groaned.

*****

“ _So hot_ , Cora!”

“Shut the hell up, Stilinski, _jesus christ_!” Cora swatted at Stiles violently as they slipped through the small crowd of interns, trying to blend in and look… not late, until Stiles was settled between Scott, one of the other roommates, and a petite, red-headed girl. Stiles let his eyes linger on her attractive profile for a moment before turning his attention to Scott.

“Dude, you guys are _late_. It’s the first day!” he exclaimed, thankfully quietly.

Stiles could _feel_ Cora rolling her eyes behind them, and then proceeded to be really weirded out that he seemed to sense Cora that well already. Scott seemed to sense it too though, as he sent an elbow blindly back at her. But _oh right_ , those two are actually friends, Stiles remembered. They were the BFFs of the house, and Stiles and the other dude, the douche-y one, Jackson? Were like the outcasts. Eh, he was used to it at this point. He could handle being an outcast. “My freaking phone, which typically stands as my alarm,” Stiles interjected into the mild play-fight now happening next to him. “ _died_ while I was sleeping. So essentially… I overslept.”

“Yeah, ‘cause _I overslept_ is really going to fly with the Chief, dude,” Scott’s face was judgey. Scott’s face needed to not be judgey.

“That’s poor form for your first day, don’t you think?” Stiles’ head whipped around at the sound of the small, but firm, female voice. It was the red-head.

“Poor form is my middle name.” A grin spread across his face before he realized that was possibly the worst comeback in the history of comebacks, and the solidly unamused expression on the red-head’s face was too much. He cleared his throat. “Um, you are?”

“Your worst nightmare.”

Stiles could’ve taken this two ways. He tried not to ponder too long before he shot back, “Funny, I figured I’d be yours.”

Red-Head narrowed her eyes, visibly assessing him and Stiles was becoming uneasy under the scrutiny. “Lydia,” she finally said. “Lydia Martin.”

 _Win_. “Well nice to meet you, Lydia!” Stiles stuck out a hand. “I’m Stile-.”

“Yeah, don’t care.” Lydia pursed her lips and focused back on the Chief, her jaw set.

 _Not… a win_. Stiles sighed and shrugged off the totally _not_ supportive hand of Cora, who he could literally feel trembling with laughter behind him.

He started paying attention to the Chief just in time to hear the service assignments, and he really didn’t give a damn whose service he was assigned to as long as it wasn’t Neuro, which is what his mother’s specialty had been back in her day. The last thing he needed right now was some hot shot brain surgeon either comparing him/herself to Stiles’ mother, or comparing _Stiles_ to Stiles’ mother.

“Argent, Hale, Martin, McCall, Stilinski, Whittemore: relocate yourselves to Conference Room 2 around the corner to meet your Resident and the Attending you will be observing for the next few weeks.”

Okay, so Stiles was stuck with his three roommates, unless he was screwing up last names… but he was pretty sure Hale, McCall, and Whittemore were Cora, Scott, and Jackson, respectively. And then he’s been stuck with _Lydia. Greeeaaaaatttt_. And he has no idea who Argent is? Has he heard that name before? Maybe he went to High School with this person? He’s actually pretty sure he went to high school with Cora and Scott, but he hadn’t mentioned it yet.

He slapped a hand down on Scott’s shoulder with the intention of leading him forward, only to realize the dude was frozen. Stiles would’ve assumed literally, had that been a realistic possibility. “Scott?” he questioned uncertainly.

Cora waltzed around them, furrowed _(perfect)_ eyebrows expressing nothing more than confusion at the sight of Scott. She poked him, squinting her eyes at his non-reaction. “Is he broken?”

“Ar-… Ar…”

Stiles checked Scott’s pulse for the hell of it, covered one of his eyes and asked, “You a pirate?” He let out a boisterous laugh. “Arrrrrrgh.” He held up a “hook” finger and snapped his teeth but Scott wasn’t phased.

“Ar…?” Cora’s head flinched back slightly before her mouth fell agape in realization. “Holy shit! I didn’t even realize!”

“Okay, what am I missing here?” Stiles was definitely missing something.

“I’m guessing me…”

Stiles and Cora whipped around to see a beautiful, tall brunette standing behind them with a shy grin on her glossed pink lips. Before Stiles could really even process how weirdly honored he felt to be in the presence of such beauty, Cora was squealing and throwing herself at her, yelling, “ALLISON!” Stiles found himself taking a step back, which brought Scott to his attention again, who had not turned around yet. “ _What the hell are you doing here?_ ” Cora was now screaming.

“You okay, dude?” Stiles grasped his roommates’ shoulder, concern etching his features.

Scott deflated in an instant. “Long story,” he mumbled before he dragged himself 180 degrees to face his apparent problem. Stiles pondered the way Allison’s shy smile grew even shyer and how upon looking at the girl, Scott’s awkwardness disappeared and he was embracing her tightly. So tightly.

Stiles was excellent at reading body language, so it was pretty easy to assume these two had a big history, even without Cora whispering, “High school sweethearts,” in his ear. “She left to study abroad in France and then went to med school in New York. Scott stayed here.”

“That’s rough.” But now Stiles was uncomfortable, for reasons he couldn’t exactly pinpoint in the moment. “We should probably go-…” He awkwardly pointed behind himself and wheeled around, shocked to nearly run over freaking Lydia, who was just standing there, stiffly surveying him. “Um.” Stiles was the frozen one now.

The scrutiny went on painfully long before the girl finally said, “Are you coming, or what?” and then spun on her heels and marched toward the corridor.

“I-… Yeah.” Stiles shook his head, disbelieving. “Wait up!”

“I wait for no one, Stilinski,” she called over her shoulder.

Stiles was right behind her again. “How do you- ?”

“Context clues, moron.”

“Right.”

He could hear footsteps, which he could only assume belonged to Cora, Scott, and Allison, running behind him, trying to catch up.

“Whose service are we on, anyways?” Stiles asked, not really to anyone in particular. “I mean, that was awfully cryptic. _Relocate to Conference Room 2. Where you will die_.”

Lydia snorted, _snorted_ , and he considered _that_ a win. “All I know is we better be on Neuro,” she said, and Stiles found himself glaring at her. She rolled her eyes when she noticed. “I get why _you_ wouldn’t want to specialize in Neuro, Stilinski, but that doesn’t mean I can’t want to. You could at least give it a shot.”

“I’ll pass, thanks.” Stiles huffed. “And don’t tell anyone.” If they didn’t already know, he didn’t need people looking at him differently because of his past and his mother. He figured Lydia was just the kind of person to know everything, so he couldn't really be surprised by her aptitude of his life. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Prodigy.” 

“Shut the fu-.” 

“HEY.” Well, Cora had caught up to him. “Have you seen Jackson? Do you think he’s later than we were?” 

Stiles shrugged. “That would be fantastic to not be the only slackers on the first day.” He and Lydia pushed open the double doors into the conference room, a well lit space with the kind of long table you would expect when you imagine one, which was littered with papers that appeared to be informational, and at the end, seated, were Jackson, their presumed Resident--an older dude--and- “Somehow I don’t think we’re that lucky,” Stiles mumbled _miserably_ and wide-eyed because the Attending, whose service they would be on for weeks was, of course, Cora’s brother. 

It was Derek. 

“Ah hell,” Cora was next to him now, and she rolled her eyes, which Stiles felt free to assume now was her favorite thing to do. Then he heard a girl, oh, Allison, he remembered, sigh at the same time it sounded like Scott whimpered? That can’t be right? Did Scott just whimper? Stiles was the one who was supposed to be whimpering right about now. He had made a complete ass of himself to Derek this morning _and_ claimed not to be an intern on top of that. Derek had _touched_ him. _Sensually_. And Stiles _hated_ the word sensually. Oh god, he was _Derek’s_ intern. _Dr. Hale_. Oh god, oh god, _oh god_. 

Lydia seemed to be the only one happy about their placement; Stiles even heard her mutter “Nice.” under her breath and she was actually wearing a grin that he didn’t expect to see on a girl with her apparent attitude. So Stiles could only guess the one thing that would make this situation worse. 

Derek was a Neurology surgeon. Probably the Neuro guy that Stiles was dead set on avoiding. _Of. Course._

“Took you losers long enough,” Jackson called out from his seat, and Stiles watched Derek as he rolled his eyes—okay, must be a family thing—and then only glanced to see the Resident chastise Jackson, but then Derek was gazing at him with those stupid green eyes and fuck Stiles, Stiles was so done with this program already. Derek was such a beautiful creature he could probably convince him to specialize in Neuro, which is his genuine _nightmare_ , if he hadn’t made that clear enough yet. 

There was a smirk on Derek’s face that Stiles kind of wanted to kiss off, but also, the man was exuding surprise, which made Stiles feel a little bit better, because that had to mean that Derek had been somewhat affected by this morning as well. 

“Good morning, interns,” The Resident stood and Stiles and Derek both snapped to attention. “I am Dr. Chris Argent; I am your Resident. This is Dr. Derek Hale, the head of Neurology.” If Stiles could groan aloud right now… “And there’s no need to sit down since you need to start getting used to never having a chance to.” The meanness in his glare was all Jackson needed to scramble out of his seat and over to stand with his fellow interns. 

Well shit. Stiles had heard there was a hard-ass Resident and with his luck it only made sense that that’s who he had landed as his, who would always see himself as the boss, for the innumerable years to come. And “Argent” explained Allison and Scott’s reactions. Chris Argent was probably Allison’s father. He could see that, the family resemblance. 

Argent continued, “I am not your mother; I do not clean up after you and you do not come to me with your personal crap because I don’t care. But your actions in this hospital do fall on me, so don’t screw up, even though I know you will.” Argent looked at Derek. “The first mistake was putting the babies on Neuro. Who would actually let them around brains right now?” 

Derek cleared his throat, seemed mildly uncomfortable. “Well, Chr-, Dr. Argent, it’s not like they’ll be scrubbing in on a tumor resection today; they aren’t even allowed in the OR yet.” Argent grunted with affirmation. “Plus, they had to put _someone_ on my service. This is who the Chief thought made the cut. The best.” 

All six interns perked up considerably at that; Stiles even went so far as to smirk but Argent wasn’t having it. “Oh, don’t go boosting their egos, Hale. They’re interns. They aren’t allowed to have egos.” 

“No, egos are reserved for asshole Residents.” Stiles tried not to react to the hushed statement, let alone the fact that _Allison_ is the one who said it. Holy shit this was going to be an interesting year. 

Despite the effort, Stiles still let a snicker escape, but reveled in the fact that Jackson did as well. “Something funny?” Argent asked, scarily calm. 

Jackson froze, the bastard, but Stiles was quick to articulate, “No sir. We’re just… _really_ excited about this year.” His eyes fell on Derek’s. “Really excited.” God freaking dammit the dude _blushed. He blushed_. Stiles was a dead man. Stiles was dead. He would not make it through the week, let alone the year. 

But Argent was quick to kill the damn mood, the mood that was completely inside Stiles’ head but whatever. “Whatever you say, Stilinski. You won’t feel the same way by the end of your shift.” The room collectively stopped moving; the interns weren’t quite sure what that meant. “Starting now, your first shift lasts 48 hours.” _Fuck_. “You will handle charts, answer any questions we have for you, and do nothing else but follow us around and do everything we tell you. You will get meal breaks, and you each get about eight hours of on-call time, meaning there may be opportunities to sleep, but I wouldn’t bet on it. Not if I have any say in it at least.” The man’s grin was evil. Pure evil and Stiles considered bailing just over the level of devilishness. “Now.” Argent brushed past them and out of the room so the interns were left standing there, dumbfounded. 

Derek spoke up, “You guys might want to foll-.” 

“FOLLOW,” Argent’s voice bellowed from the hallway and Stiles was sure the six of them looked so comical it was embarrassing as they all tried to find their footing and run out of the room. 

But then Stiles was stopped by a robust hand wrapped around his wrist, and another _slipping under his scrubs_ at his waist. Stiles felt a shiver roll through him but also felt himself sort of evanesce backward, into the man who had this stupid hold on him, literally and figuratively. They were still, together, for a moment other than Derek’s nose grazing up Stiles earlobe like that was a normal freaking thing to do, making his skin prickle with warmth and his stomach fill with totally, super-manly butterflies. And through all of that, through Derek’s touchiness and Stiles letting himself just melt into this _stranger’s_ embrace like that, through Derek handling him so preciously, _all_ Tall-Dark-and-Handsome had to say for himself was, 

“So, not an intern, huh?” 

Oh, _hell._


	2. I Wanna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know,” Allison murmured, even though she and Stiles were the only two in the supply closet, grabbing what they needed down in the pit. “They call him McDreamy.”

“You know,” Allison murmured, even though she and Stiles were the only two in the supply closet, grabbing what they needed down in the pit. “They call him McDreamy.”

Her giggle fused with the silly nickname and Stiles was kind of in love with her, if he was being honest. Not _in love_ in love, come on, he wasn’t crushing on _every single_ intern, but he just recognized that she was obviously some kind of angel and just awesome all around. Not to mention she was obviously off-limits because of Scott, and while they weren’t exactly friends yet, they were roommates and there had to be some kind of code there, right? Anyway, Allison had pretty much won him over _in a friendly way_ the second she bad-mouthed her father back in the conference room. And things had only gone up from there.

They were more than twenty hours into their 48 hour shift, and things had gone… considerably well so far. Not as planned, much to Argent’s disdain. He’d planned on the interns not touching shit unless it was a chart or an ass. Fucking rectal exams. Which Stiles had luckily not been submitted to, but he wasn’t counting his blessings yet. Meanwhile though, the task belonged to Jackson, who was _totally_ the douche-y one, Stiles _called it._ The dude spent the first couple of hours talking a bunch of shit, but was _so_ unable to take some in return, and then proceeded to screw up something so simple that Argent finally dismissed him to rectal exams. Stiles half-expected Jackson’s hair to fade into bleach blond and for him to spat something like _my father will hear about this_ , but unfortunately, alternate (book) universes didn’t seem to be a thing yet.

“Scott?” Stiles pondered. “I don’t know that I’d go with McDreamy for him… McPuppy, maybe.” It was true; Scott reminded Stiles of a puppy so hard he almost wanted to adopt him.

But Allison merely laughed again. “Not Scott. Derek.”

Stiles felt like he did a pretty spectacular job of not freezing up at her obvious acknowledgment of Stiles’ metaphorical (and not-so-metaphorical, 99% of the time) hard-on for Derek Hale, if by not freezing up one would mean completely freezing up and then hitting play on movement so quickly, he knocked over half of the objects on the shelf he was scouring.

He was playing it super cool, wasn’t he?

Judging by Allison’s smirk, he could tell she felt the same way. Cue Stiles’ internal eye roll at himself.

“D-Derek, I could, uh, definitely, yeah, definitely see being called McDreamy…” Stiles half-heartedly placed the knocked over items back in their place.

“Yeah, and if I didn’t know already that today is your first day, I’d definitely assume you started the nickname.”

“You would assume _nothing_!” Really, did Stiles even make sense half the time? “I-, uh, ‘cause there’s nothing to assume, obviously.”

Allison smiled with her eyes narrowed, and Stiles decided she had a dark side, even though she still looked like a damn angel. “Of course,” she said. “You just have a disorder that causes you to spaz out when you hear the name _Derek_.”

The package of bandages in Stiles’ hand became crumpled before he could help it. He’s pretty sure it was his body’s solid effort to _not_ spaz out, but it still didn’t help his case. “Wow, Allison, you are a _genius_ and, and wow, you officially know my secret.” A string of sardonic “ha”s filled the air. “I have Derek Disorder. But I am a survivor-!”

The girl shoved his shoulder playfully, laughing and telling him to shut up. “I think it’s cute, how you two just creepily stare at each other when you think no one else is watching.” The Angel winked. “Seriously, are you guys a thing? How long have you known each other?”

Heat rushed to Stiles’ face because this was schoolgirl stuff. Not necessarily the gossiping in the closet—he was down to gossip with Allison or any of his potential friends any day—but the fact that he’d barely known Derek for a day, had spent considerably less time than that actually _with_ him, and Stiles was acting like he was in love. “A part of me really wants to lie to you and tell you I’ve known him for years…” he groaned.

Allison covered her open mouth with her hand, a tiny gasp escaping. “Stiles, don’t tell me you just met him today!”

“Before the shift started, and with him only wearing a towel at the time.”

“Did you guys-!?”

“ _No_.” Stiles could feel his face getting red again, or redder, because it probably hadn’t stopped being red. Oh, what a life. “How fucking pathetic am I, Dr. Argent? Give me the cold, hard truth.”

An expression of fondness overcame the girl and Stiles sighed. Yeah, he was pathetic. He knew it. “Okay, Patient Stiles, ahem, Mr. Stilinski.” He was kinda thrilled she was keeping up the playful banter. “I have a very serious question to ask you before we proceed with your prognosis.”

“Go ahead, Doctor.”

“When’s the last time you got laid?”

She diffused into a fit of giggles, using his shoulder as a brace and he groaned again. “Don’t fucking remind me, Allison. It’s been a _year_.”

Immediately, Allison’s laughter disappeared. “Oh my god, _Stiles_.”

“Oh my god is right, because that was a fucking lie. It’s been _two_ years!”

“ _Stiles._ I mean, I know exactly how you feel… but I feel like I’m a lot more content than you are about it.”

“ _What do you mean_ you know how I feel? How long has it been for _you_?” There was no way a girl as beautiful as Allison had gone years without getting any unless it was her own choice, because _seriously_ , if Stiles felt _that_ way about her…

“Three years,” she sighed the words. “I’ve only been with one guy since Scott, and it was more a friends with benefits thing anyway. He was ahead of me in med school, which is why it ended three years ago.” The girl shrugged. “I’ve just sort of clung to the idea of Scott this whole time. I don’t think I’ll ever find someone else like him, you know?”

Stiles hummed half-heartedly because no, he didn’t know. He had _never_ had a serious relationship before. He awkwardly lost his virginity to his childhood best friend, Heather, when he was seventeen, a few years after his mom died. He “dated” a guy, Danny, the next year, but after a couple of pretty not-very-sexy, sexy times, they mutually decided to call it quits. In University, he stuck mostly to schoolwork, but in his mythology class—the only liberty he ever took with an elective—there was a girl, Malia, whom he’d shared a love of the study with, and their annual study sessions quickly transitioned into study-for-five-minutes-and-then-screw-each-other-senseless dates. He liked her, and she liked him, but there wasn’t much depth to their relationship; they both knew what they were in it for. After that it was just sketchy bar hook-ups with completely random guys and girls that he honestly couldn’t remember _any_ of the names of.

“Stiles?” The boy in question blinked slowly, and was suddenly terrified by the look on Allison’s face, because he didn’t want some _you’ll meet the right person some day!_ speech. No siree. But to his surprise, she merely slapped her hand back down on his shoulder and said, “We need to get you laid.”

Stiles barked out a laugh, grasping her wrist near his head. This woman was his hero. “Allison Argent, will you be my wingwoman?”

“Stiles Stilinski, I would be honored!” Allison declared, bursting into laughter when Stiles dramatically pretended to try and eat the hand resting on his shoulder. Then she checked the handy-dandy pager they had all been issued. “Oh my god, we’ve been in here so long! We have to get back down to the ER!”

Stiles grunted, unhappy with that prospect, but nonetheless, they each grabbed their respective piles they had collected and made their way back as fast as they could manage. Allison didn’t drop the conversation from before, though.

“Let’s see, we’ll be spending most of our time here, so maybe you should start with someone that works here…” She was mostly talking to herself, and Stiles just watched on in amusement. “Oh! What about Danny! The head nurse in Pediatrics! We were pretty good friends in high school. He’s very sweet.”

And then she said that. Stiles stopped. “Danny?” Because now he knew exactly why Allison’s name had sounded so familiar originally. He _did_ go to high school with her. “Not Danny Mahealani?!”

“Yeah!” Allison turned to face him when she realized he’d stopped, wide eyes casting across his anxious features. “You know him?!”

“Dated him. In… high school. We didn’t have chemistry, I guess…” Stiles did not want to make that connection for her out loud; he shouldn’t have said anything if he wanted to keep his sanity and, yep, now she was even more wide-eyed than before. Now she would join Lydia in knowing him.

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t even make the connection-!”

“Yeah.”

Allison looked pretty panicked over how to properly react upon seeing how stiff he became. “I-I’m so sorry. Your mom was-“ Stiles felt sick, and it must have shown because she stopped herself short and changed her track. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize we went to high school together!”

Stiles sighed, gave her a weak, but encouraging smile. “S’okay, Allison. I didn’t make that connection until just now either. I remember having lunch with Danny a couple of times. You were there.”

Her smile was frail and her nod small. “You guys were really nice together.”

“Thanks. No chemistry in da sheets though,” Stiles clicked his tongue and winked, causing Allison to groan, and that seemed to break the nervous tension between them.

“Okay, so no Danny.” They continued walking. “I don’t really know anyone else besides Danny and Derek that are gay or bi…”

Stiles chuckled. “Hm, okay, one:  Why can’t I just work on getting laid by McDreamy? Actually, are we even sure he’s into dudes?” The look Allison threw his way was nothing if not withering. Okay then. “Two: I’m very much one of those aforementioned bi people, so that should open up your wingman pool a bit.”

“Oh, _perfect_!” Allison exclaimed. “That definitely opens up a whole new realm of possibilities…”

“Ahem, and why not McDreamy?” Stiles asked again.

Allison just smirked and shrugged. “Don’t just jump right in with him. You should get out and test the waters a bit, and you know, it wouldn’t hurt to make him jealous a little, too.”

Yeah, because Derek would waste the energy on getting jealous about _Stiles._ He said just as much aloud and Allison nearly dropped all the supplies in her arms just to smack him. She settled on kicking him, instead.

“Stiles, I don’t think you realize just how attractive you are.” Then she added, “Who knows, maybe finding someone else to lay will cool your head about McDreamy.”

Then they were back on the scene of the pit.

Argent was on them before Stiles could blink. “What the hell took you two so long? Did you go for lunch in Los Angeles before you made your way back?”

“No sir, Dr. Argent,” Stiles said firmly, and when Allison smoothly cut in with an excuse, Stiles knew they were meant to be friends.

“The closest supply closet was out of bandages and syringes, sir,” she said. “It took a while for us to find the next closest closet _and_ to report to a nurse that the first closet was so low on supplies.”

Argent narrowed his eyes at Stiles, who was nodding along with the excuse, and he couldn’t figure out why the man was peering at him so suspiciously, or well, angrily, but then it hit him, right as Argent skulked away with some of the bandages they brought back.

He totally thought Stiles had boned his daughter in the supply closet.

“Does he think-“

Allison nodded solemnly. “I’m pretty sure.”

“What took _you_ guys so long?” Stiles spun around until he saw McPuppy himself, looking like, well, like a kicked puppy.

Ah damn, was this what working at this hospital was going to be like? Disappear with someone for five or ten extra minutes than necessary and it automatically means you’re screwing them?

But Allison merely smiled sweetly and moved a little closer to both guys. “Oh, Stiles has a major schoolgirl crush on Dr. Hale-“ Stiles flailed at the spilled information. “And I had to talk him through it. I decided he needs to get laid.”

At that, Scott appeared plain amused. “Dude, I _knew_ there was something going on with you and Dr. Hale!” he, thankfully, whispered.

“No, you didn’t!” Stiles could feel his own jaw clenching and couldn’t help but imagine what the scenario would be like if he just Hulked out on everyone. Honestly, _these people._ “There’s literally _nothing_ going on-“

“ _I like to whisper, too_.”

“Cora!” he exclaimed, recovering from the shit being scared out of him, hand over his heart and breathing heavily. “Yeah, you know what? Me too. Let’s go whisper somewhere else!” He draped his arm over her shoulder and led her away from Scott and Allison before they could ruin his life even more, in front of Derek’s sister, no less. He kept walking and dragging her along until he couldn’t hear Allison and Scott’s evil, evil laughs anymore.

But then Cora was struggling. “No, Stiles! I don’t want to whisper with you! You’ll start talking about my freaking brother again and my ears _just_ stopped bleeding from the last time!”

A blush creeped up Stiles’ neck, the memory clear in his head.

They’d received about a ten minute break, maybe two hours ago, and Stiles had really needed to vent to someone about Derek freaking Hale, because that _moment_ or whatever back in the conference room, and all the staring contests, and just being in the dude’s presence was _killing_ Stiles; he felt like he was going to explode, and surprisingly, no, not in the way one might think. He just needed to talk to someone. But he didn’t exactly have a plethora of friends to choose from, and he wasn’t quite sure who he could trust out of his fellow interns yet, so he called Malia.

After their inevitable break-up, which really just involved a lot of break-up sex before Malia moved to Portland for medical school and Stiles continued at Stanford, they’d kept in touch. She was the only person in his life he considered a friend, that he could go months without talking to and she understood, was fine with it. They always were kind of friend-soulmates, he figured, and he was glad they were the rare exception that could easily still be friends throughout and after the whole  
“benefits” thing happened.

So yeah, she was his go-to, his confidante. His only freaking hope to get through this with his sanity still in tact.

“ _Malia.”_

“I’m not flying to Beacon Hills just to fulfill your sexual desires, Stilinski.”

Stiles scoffed, his voice practically drowning in sarcasm as he said, “Yeah, miss you, too.” She remained silent on the other end besides a deep exhale, directly into the phone receiver. _Huh…_ “You know, I’m really surprised we’ve never done the whole phone sex thing before-“

“ _Stiles._ I’m kinda busy, so-“

“Are you too busy to listen to me ramble about the unnaturally attractive brain surgeon I’m working under for the innumerable weeks to come?”

He listened intently as the sound of papers rustling traveled through to his end; it sounded like she actually _had_ been busy and he felt kinda bad but like, the state of his sanity might have actually been more important in this moment. He heard the springs of a bed creak ominously as she apparently plopped down onto it before she started in on him. “What the fuck are you doing lusting after a brain surgeon?! Do you know how many hours of my life I have spent listening to you rant and whine about how you don’t want to be associated with Neuro in any way?!”

“ _No one is more upset about this than I am!_ ” Stiles whispered. “But Malia, oh my god, if you could _see_ him! He’s my roommates’ brother-“

“Oh, that’s not good.”

“Wha- why?”

“Use your common sense. Do you know how many problems that could cause? You could end up homeless.”

That thought hadn’t occurred to Stiles yet, and now, horrifyingly enough, he was wondering if his dad would let him move in until he found another place… “Homeless schmomeless,” he decided, aloud, ignoring the comment under her breath suggesting that he was still a child. “If you could just _see_ him-“

“You _said_ that already, dumbass. Give me something else to go on.”

Stiles had to chuckle to himself. He really did miss her. “Okay, so I met him while he was only wearing a towel-“

“Mm, the beginning to a steamy romance.”

“Yeah, if only,” he huffed. “Nothing happened other than me making a complete idiot of myself.”

“As usual, you mean?” He could hear the smirk in Malia’s voice.

“Har har.” Stiles posted himself against the wall of the deserted hallway he was standing in, recounting every little detail about their morning introduction, then finding out he was an Attending, a freaking _Neuro dude,_ the way Derek had grabbed him in the conference room, and all the staring and fleeting touches and smirks and _ugh_ Stiles was so done.

“Malia,” he was saying. “Derek’s ass is so grabbable if I could just-“ A retching sound behind him cut him short, and then-

“Are you _fucking_ kidding me, Stilinski?”

“That’s his sister isn’t it.” Malia’s tone in his ear didn’t sound very questioning. “What did I tell you-“

Stiles groaned. “Yep. Bye.” He hung up and shoved his phone in the pocket of his scrubs. Cora’s face had drained of all its color, and she genuinely looked like she might be sick. Oops. “Cora-“

“No, Stiles. My ears are _bleeding. They are bleeding._ ”

“Cor-“

“ _Please just stop talking._ ”

And then she was hurrying away from him, casting a disgusted look over her shoulder like he was the actual Plague.

He sighed, brought back to the present while Cora finally jerked herself away from him. “Seriously, Stilinski. I will break your hands if I hear you saying shit like that again.”

“I’m _sorry_ , okay? But to be fair, that _was_ a private conversation-“

“I can’t help that I just happened to walk up! Derek said that hallway is where all the interns usually hang out so I was going to check it out, and then _you-_ “ She brandished a finger at his chest, but they were suddenly interrupted.

“I honestly don’t know who to accuse for harassing the other right now.” It was Derek. Of course it was Derek. With his stupid smirk, and stupid raised eyebrows to match, and stupid green e-

“ _You!”_ Now Cora was brandishing the same finger at her brother, albeit a bit more violently. She was _fuming._

Stiles was slightly confused.

Also slightly dazed because, well, he hadn’t seen Derek in like an hour or something? And that was just too long by Stiles’ standards.

Cora stormed off and Derek turned his gaze to Stiles, appearing more amused than ever. It was a good look on him. He seemed like a broody dude when he thought no one was watching, but, maybe he didn’t realize Stiles was kind of always watching. “I’m gonna guess _she_ was harassing you, then?” Derek questioned.

Stiles shrugged slowly, holding his eyes steady as they stared into Derek’s. “It was kind of a team effort, I think.”

Derek hummed, not averting his eyes either. That is, until they dropped down to openly stare at Stiles’ lips, and then Stiles was self-consciously licking them, and Derek was narrowing his eyes, inching closer, and Stiles was maybe two seconds away from jumping the dude’s bones right in the middle of the ER when a hand suddenly grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

“Stiles! Can you come help me with a patient? I need assistance with a check-up. He’s a pretty difficult guy.”

It was Allison, and he didn’t know whether to bow down to her, or fucking lose his shit on her because _that_ had been something and she had _interrupted it. Oh my god._

By the time he processed her words and muttered an unhappy “sure,” he turned back to see Derek exiting the pit, a flash of navy blue rounding the corner.

“ _Allison.”_

“You can’t jump the guy in the middle of the pit!” she whispered. Then she straightened with a smirk and added, “I’ll admit that was pretty intense, though.”

Stiles deflated, wide-eyed. “I have no idea what just happened. Like, I may have blacked out there for a second.”

Allison’s eyes were bright as she just giggled and dragged him toward a specific bed. “I really do need your help with a patient. He’s got early onset of dementia and he came here under the impression he’s got some sort of disease, well, other than dementia; a foreign disease.”

“So, typical day, probably.” Stiles nodded along with his own words. “Should we get someone from Psych down here or?”

“Uh well, yeah, when I called Dr. Morrell, she actually laughed and said because of who it is, she didn’t feel the need to see him because he’s always in here, so…” Allison shrugged slowly and Stiles took notice that she actually looked kind of nervous, although he didn’t understand why.

He snorted anyway. “That’s hilarious. Who is this guy?”

“Um…” Allison bit her lip and pulled back the curtain they had just stopped at.

“BILINSKI!” the man shouted, causing Stiles to actually take a step back with the force of it.

 _Oh no. Fuck no. No no no._ He noticed Scott standing on the other side of the bed and Allison scurried to close the curtain around all of them. “ _Seriously,_ Allison? _Seriously_? Anyone left who didn’t remember me from high school will _definitely_ remember now!”

“I’m so sorry, Stiles! I didn’t think he’d remember you in his state-“

It was the Lacrosse coach from Stiles’ high school—Bobby Finstock. He’d always been loud and eccentric, and Stiles _couldn’t stand him._ Stiles tried out for the sport his Sophomore year, mostly because his dad kept insinuating he should get out and do something different/make more friends, et cetera. But Stiles made the bench, where he spent roughly three months doing his homework and checking out Danny while First String practiced until he quit. He’d had better things to do with his time than warm a bench.

Like read comics and play video games.

“Bilinski, what are you doing here? You quit Lacrosse, remember?!”

Stiles flared his nostrils pointedly at Allison before he stepped forward. “Coach, that was a long time ago-“

But Finstock was gazing around the small curtained area now. “This isn’t the Lacrosse field,” he intelligently observed.

“Oh _really_ ,” Stiles mumbled, tilting his head back and dragging a hand down his face. He couldn’t even bear to glance at Scott. The first day of work was not going as planned _at all._

“No, Coach!” Yep, that would be where he knew Scott from. Scott had been on First String. “I mean, uh, Mr. Finstock, sir.” He placed a comforting hand on the man’s shoulder. “You’re in the _hospital_.”

Allison jumped in. “Yes, sir, and we really need to give you a check-up, so if you could just…” She motioned with her hands vaguely, but Stiles could tell she wanted him to seat himself at the end of the bed.

Finstock glared at them all stubbornly. “Why are you just doing a check-up?! Why aren’t you in Hazmat suits?! I’M DISEASED. CALL THE CDC.”

Three pairs of eyes widened and stared at each other when they heard scattered exclamations of “ _What?” “Excuse me?”_ and “ _Diseased?!”_ around them. Presumably from patients.

“This is bad,” Allison muttered, just before the curtain behind her and Stiles was ripped open.

“ _What_ is going on?!” the blonde woman standing there asked fiercely. She was in dark blue scrubs. An Attending, then. She was pretty hot, Stiles noted, but mostly he was just glad it wasn’t Derek standing there ready to scold them.

“Dr. Reyes!” Scott breathed. He actually sounded relieved. Stiles wasn’t sure why; he was kind of scared of this Dr. Reyes and her judgey eyes. “It’s _Finstock_ ,” Scott said, like that was the answer to all their problems.

At that, Reyes actually rolled her eyes. “I’ll do damage control.” And with that, she was gone.

“So this really is a common occurrence for them, then?” Stiles questioned, noting Finstock’s glassy stare into oblivion. He couldn’t keep up with the dude’s swings.

“Apparently,” Scott shrugged. “But Erica played Lacrosse too when she was in high school so she gets it on a bigger scale.”

All three of them snorted with laughter. Stiles made a mental note that Scott was seemingly friends with this _Erica_ as well. Looks like Stiles would be the only one who didn’t know a soul in this place. He also didn’t miss the way Scott didn’t seem surprised or taken aback by the realization of who Stiles was.

While Finstock had gone abnormally quiet, they abandoned the idea of getting him to sit at the edge of the bed, and instead, Allison went to fetch the blood pressure cuff and Stiles and Scott stood at each of the man’s shoulders; Stiles a steady hand to hold him down, and Scott listening to his heartbeat through a stethoscope.

Stiles was contemplating transferring hospitals when Scott spoke softly across from him. “You don’t have to hide who you are from us, you know.” Stiles didn’t say anything. He stared down at his hand on Finstock’s shoulder like he was daring the old man to interrupt with an obnoxious outburst. _Please interrupt_ , he thought. But his non-answer didn’t deter McPuppy. “Most of us already knew.” Stiles stopped breathing. “Really I think the only ones who don’t are like, Whittemore and Martin.”

“Lydia knows.”

“Oh.” Stiles could hear Scott’s frown, because apparently hearing facial expressions was a thing. “Well, I just-… anyone here that’s native to the area remembers- Beacon Hills is a pretty big city but it’s not _that_ big, you know?” Stiles _should’ve_ known. He should’ve known it was never going to be easy pretending he wasn’t his mother’s son. He wondered if Derek knew. Scott continued, wrapping his stethoscope around his neck and standing straight, “Point is, it’s not a secret or anything, who you are. But, we understand if you want it to be.” Stiles finally turned his gaze toward his fellow intern, kind of amazed if he was being honest. Scott grinned, like a “thanks” wasn’t even necessary. “It’s cool, dude, I get it.”

Stiles let himself smile just as Allison rushed back in with the cuff. “Can I keep him?!” he asked her, shoving a thumb in Scott’s direction.

She shot them each a politely confused grin before saying, “Maybe we should work out a custody agreement.” Her words were shy, prodding almost, like she was using Stiles as a buffer to test the water with Scott. He sighed internally. He could be that for Allison.

He noticed Scott blushing and then Allison was too and Stiles could do nothing but roll his eyes and snatch the blood pressure cuff from her and continue taking Finstock’s vitals while they were all gooey with each other.

He pretended to be grossed out, but he was rooting for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SO sorry an update took so freaking long. Life has definitely been getting in the way. This chapter wasn't originally going to end here, but when I was working on it earlier, I realized how long it was going to be, so I decided to split it. So I'm super sorry if this is pretty boring; I'm still trying to get everything in this universe set up. Pretty much every character ever will make an appearance throughout the story, and I spent almost all of this chapter on Allison. Oops. Haha.
> 
> Anyway, I'm going to try and get an actual schedule going for updates. For now I'm going to aim to update every other week! Comments/Feedback definitely help loads! I'm also looking for someone to beta and basically be my rock for this story. I don't have any writer friends, but I know from experience in the past how much it helps me to talk plot and ideas with someone. So let me know (preferably over on Tumblr (ssparkinski)) if you're interested!

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY. So I have no idea how long it will take to get this story done and posted. I've got it all planned out though, besides some minor details here and there. I'm sorry if it isn't great; writing is what I'm best at but I've still got a long way to go in the realm of creative writing. But this is my practice, so any and all feedback is more than welcome! Leave comments, tell me what you liked and didn't, and please please please give kudos if you like it overall.
> 
> I won't be following Grey's Anatomy closely, but I will be pulling things here and there from the show for the story. And the characters technically are matched up with certain Grey's characters, but even then, I tweaked characteristics and genders so it shouldn't be too similar, if you're familiar with the show.
> 
> And as far as the medical jargon goes; some of it might be sparse, or even inaccurate, but I'm doing my best to pull cases and terminology from the show and to research as well because I know the show isn't always accurate either. But there aren't any cases in this chapter so we don't have to worry about that for now!
> 
> Like I said, PLEASE give feedback; I'm pretty nervous about posting this and getting it going, so I'll need all the help I can get! Thanks y'all!


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